


The Witch's Spell

by NidoranDuran



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Femdom, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Witch Mercy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 19:57:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8414710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NidoranDuran/pseuds/NidoranDuran
Summary: A few weeks ago, a witch with strange healing magic saved you from the brink of death. Now, that same witch has come to you in your bed, asking you to show your devotion to her, and something about the word 'servant' sounds so right. Witch Mercy/Reader, reader is of unspecified gender but has a penis. Commission for madman1467.





	

"How thankful are you?" the witch asks, her Swedish accent so soft and inviting as she sits on your legs, keeping them pinned down to the bed, but it doesn't feel like she's applying any weight to do so. "You did say last time we spoke that you owed me your life; you haven't gone back on that, have you?"

"No," you say, not having nearly as many questions as you should over the fact that Mercy is in your bedroom in the middle of the night, that she invited herself in through the open window and perched herself right down onto your lap. it should trouble you far more than it does, but there is something about the soft smile of the blonde that even her witchy outfit and her intrusion can't diminish the trustworthiness of. "I meant it."

Weeks ago, you were in an accident, and only the magical healing of the strange, angelic-winged witch kept you alive. It was strange at the time as she flew away, leaving you with more questions than answers about how she had found you and how she mended your wounds and your broken bones with a single invigorating beam of war yellow energy. It's been almost an obsession for you, one that you've finally found yourself able to sate as your thoughts and longing, lingering wonders have drawn her back to you. Your witchy savior sitting on your lap like it's her broom, her wings spread and her delightful presence warming you over.

"I am so very happy to hear that," she purrs, running her fingers along your cheek as she leans in closer, pressing her breasts down into your face and drawing your gaze toward her exposed cleavage. "Because I would be very disappointed if I had come all this way, only to find out my plan were ruined."

Even such an ominous remark doesn't take away from the haze of elation and comfort you feel. There's a halfway decent chance she's cast a spell on your mind to keep you docile and cooperative, but if she has, then it's working, because you can't muster up enough effort to care. "What plan? you ask as if there's nothing strange about this at all.

"My plan to make you into my devoted, loving servant." She says it like it's no big deal, reaching her hand toward your cheek as she lowers her whole body down enough to press the faintest little tease of a kiss to your lips. As the kiss breaks you find yourself rising upward, guided by the teasing smile and the way she pulls you from your supine position only with the desire to kiss her again. The witch's spell is heavy upon you now, your mind offering up no fight as she guides you further back. She sat down on the edge of the bed, spreading her legs and inviting you down with a single beckoning finger, lifting her skirt and revealing her bare, slick pussy. "And if you serve me well, then I promise to reward you amply for your work."

A need to serve overcomes you, something powerful and twisted that pulls you in close, guides you to your stomach as you lay your head between her soft legs. "Anything," you say, and you're greeted with a warm smile as she guides your head down further. She may not let you have your fill of her lips, but as you press a kiss down against her mound, she seems all too happy to let you linger there, holding your head in place as the sleepiness melts off of you and only a deep, abiding need to give this gorgeous witch everything she wants remains.

Your hands run slowly up her body, but she swats them away. "No, my dear servant," she says softly. "No touching me. Or yourself. Not yet. Focus only on eating me out." She presses your head in a little tighter still and lets out a sweet gasp as you do precisely that, lapping needily at her slick folds, trying your best to focus forward on the matter at hand and on giving her the devouring she deserves. Whatever she wants, you're ready to give her, and her demands will be met to the letter as something about the way she asks things of you sees not like a sweet question you're acting of your own volition on, but like a deep, throbbing compulsion that you can't resist, something you find impossible to shake off as she guides you to perform her duties exactly as she asks them.

Your hands fall limp onto the bed as your tongue does all of the work, dragging up her slit as it leaks the sweet and tart nectar onto your tongue. She's wet and needy, and no part of her deserves to be left wanting like that. It's your duty to help her out, to give her the pleasure and the relief she needs. It's not just the least you can do for her after everything she's done for you, it feels like something you just can't let go on on a moral level, like it's wrong to leave her in a state where she has to deal with this herself. Such a beautiful and caring should never have to ask someone to tend to her needs like this, and you're more than happy to help her out.

Steady at work, you lap at her folds, feeling the positive reinforcement from her grip on the back of your head and from the soft moans of the woman you're devouring. With taking care of her needs such a massive priority for you in the state of smitten desire you're deep in, being able to soak in the delight of the moans she lets out as she approves of your work is all the feedback you could ever need. As long as she's happy with what you do, you're more than willing to keep going and to give her everything she wants with a smile broad across your lips. Her happiness means your happiness.

"Such a skilled tongue," she purrs. "You're so good at this now, and you've only just begun to learn how to serve me. Imagine how skilled you'll be at eating me out when you've been my faithful servant for a while." Mercy's hips roll steadily, and you're already deep under her spell but there is still something hypnotic about the sway of her body, the way she moves and draws you down further, dragging you into a state of reverence you don't know how to break away from. The witch has you right where she wants you and you can't even imagine doing anything other than giving her what she wants.

But fortunately for you, your skills are more than enough to help her out in that department. It doesn't even feel like you've been at the task for very long when she's yelling out in delight and bucking against your lips, but that feels more like an honour than something to worry about as you press in tightly and keep the licking up, keep the pressure steady and hot as she loses herself, gasping and squirming under the pleasure you lay down upon her so happily.

"So good," she moans, pulling you back a little too harshly, her grip tight on your head as she licks her lips and squirms about excitedly. "Lie on your back for me." You do. There's no question, no ambiguity. You just act precisely as she wishes you to. "You have been looking into me, haven't you? You know my name."

"They call you 'Mercy'," you say as you lie on your back, watching her lean forward and slowly pull your underwear down. You groan as she slides them down your legs, which feel weak, almost limp. But one part of you isn't limp; you didn't realize how hard your cock had become amid her seduction and eating her out, but it stands rock hard and proud now before her gaze, making her smirk as she runs her finger along your thigh. The feeling of her touch draws groans happily from your lips.

"That is one name for me. For many, my name is Angela. But to you, I think I should be 'Mistress'. Do you understand?'

"Yes, mistress." Why would you not? It's so clear, so sensible, so obvious. She is, after all, your mistress now. And you are her faithful servant.

"Excellent." She chants lowly beneath her breath, leaning forward and blowing a soft kiss down. A little flutter of smoke wafts its way down toward your cock, and you can't help but let out a noise of frustration as something comes over you. "I have just laid a spell on you, to be absolutely sure that you will behave. After all, you need to earn your trust before I give you any rewards. You understand, I hope." She slips further up the bed, grabbing your headboard and turning herself around as she settles down onto your face. "And in the meantime, you can start earning that reward."

A round, gorgeous ass presses down against your face, and you don't even have to think about doing what she wants you to do as you drag your tongue up the cleft of her ass, ready to worship it thoroughly. Her weight settles down onto you with a measured slowness as she keeps her hold on your headboard with both hands, helping to guide her slow ascent down. The idea that you just ate her out to orgasm already and that you've shown your devotion and willingness to care for her pleasure hardly matters now as your tongue laps happily at the trembling back entrance now.

"You may touch me wherever you'd like," she says, liberating your hands from the heavy spell of her word, and they run lovingly up her body, feeling her breasts through her clothes, adoring her sleek legs and squeezing the firm rear pressed into your face. Her body feels incredible against your touch, and you can understand why she wouldn't want you to have it so quickly; it is a privilege that you had to earn, and now that you have, your fingertips can't get enough of the soft skin. Her legs stretch out slowly against your touch, bare feet settling into your lap, as where the witch's boots had gone is anyone's guess, but as she begins to slowly caress your aching cock with her foot you don't particularly care where things have gone, you just focus on savouring the feeling now so warm and loving upon you.

Up and down her feet caress with a slow and patient tease. With her spell laid upon your cock she could go as quickly as she wants without fear of getting you off, but she still chooses something slower, something more careful and meant to slowly fan the flames within you. Flames of desire and servitude, even if they're already flickering hard enough that your tongue is dragging up and down her gorgeous ass, worshiping it with kisses and adoration amid the steady oral devotion paid to her pucker. You're eating her out from behind with all of the vigour your mistress so sorely deserves, and yet still she teases you, and you don't complain, because the mere fact she's doing anything to your cock is privilege enough.

"I have long desired a servant so loyal that they will lick my ass," she moans, adoring you with her praise. "It is so nice to know that you are willing to pay me worship where I ask for it, and to not shy away from the more perverse forms of showing your love to me. And you do love me, of course." It's not a question she asks, but a statement she makes. A bold one driven by an assumption you can't argue with. Of course you love her. You're there, licking her in her most intimate of places, trying your best to give her the pleasure she's asked for. You love her with everything you have, and you're going to show it to her every time she asks you to.

Steadily lapping at her back hole, your fingers settle onto her thighs and rubbing her pussy, trailing along her drooling slit as you feel how wet you have her, how much she's come to crave this. Crave you. It feels selfish to take all the credit for this, but after all, she has come to your bed in the middle of the night seeking you. Your body. Your worship. How can this wetness not be yours to take credit for? To claim as the result of the loving treatment you show and the expert devotion to her body that's leaving her moaning and rubbing her feet faster along your cock. You give her the rimjob she deserves and let the results of it speak for themself.

Said results turn out to once more be loud, noisy cries of delight as the witch throws her head back. "You are simply the best at this!" she yells, her accent remaining thick as she shivers and twists. The elation is impossible to deny as she moves, writhing atop you and losing herself to the crushing delights that have so sorely eluded her all this time. And you are so proud to have done it for her, to leave her bucking and twisting like this. Nothing has given you more joy in life than bringing her to her second orgasm.

She pulls sharply off of your face and with a ragged moan says, "Get on all fours for me." You don't have any reason not to comply, curious as to what she wants from you as you get into position on your hands and knees, feeling her slip back onto the bed, her weight heavier than it seems, presumably thanks to the wings that fold back in on themselves and whatever mechanics are attached to it all. And yet, the pressure on your face hardly felt like it; she was stern, sure, but not any heavier feeling than a woman of her build ought to.

But now, she's upon you. You feel a hand trail along your ass, making you shudder as you hold steady on your hands and knees. "Stay right there for me," she says, and you'd never break away from that, nodding and remaining firmly in place as she leans forward. A few kisses onto your cheeks leave you shuddering and expecting her to return the favour, but she shoots that down with, "Rimjobs are for servants to give their mistresses, but I am sure that this sensitive hole will provide me plenty of other amusements." She reaches around front, pressing her hand against your mouth and shoving a couple fingers past your lips.

You suck on them eagerly, licking the digits and not questioning anything she does to you anymore as your cock dangles, aching and begging now to drop something. Not even pre-cum is coming out as her spells locks you away, but it's not enough to just not let you cum; as her other hand traces lovingly along your inner thigh, you feel a sensitivity you've never had before. It's making you more receptive to the touch that you simply can't get off from. It's torment and agony wrapped up in an obedience lesson you don't intend to fail.

Once you have the fingers nice and wet, she pulls them back from your lips and moves quickly. "Take a deep breath," she tells you as she slips two fingers into your ass with a single push. You can't help but groan as she does so, as she presses the digits in, grabbing your cock with the other hand and firmly tugging on it. A few quick strokes leave you certain the spell has increased your sensitivity as her fingers curl and press against something sensitive inside of you. She's found your prostate, and milks a moan out of you as she rubs against it. "I promise, you will enjoy this, but only after I am done enjoying it."

Both hands start to work you over immediately, the witch fingering your ass and stroking your cock all at once, and you want nothing more than to bury your face into the bed as the pleasure radiates through you powerfully. It's a lot to take in all at once, and there is something oddly enticing about being overwhelmed. Her hot breath joins the game, blowing against your balls in the middle of her attention, leaving you wondering if she's going to do anything to those as she gets to work. This is the sort of thing that could bring you to a quick orgasm by itself, the steady handjob accentuated by the expert working over of your prostate by someone who knows the area far too well, but she doesn't want that, and your body has been denied that convenience.

A tongue drags along your balls as Mercy shows you her gratefulness for all of your hard work. At least, that's what you think she's doing now. Is this your reward? It's hard to tell amid the spell to lock your orgasm away and the fact that she is taking such gleeful delight in fingerfucking you as she works of her digits quickly in and out. But now, with your ass, cock, and balls all paid attention at once, whether or not she's getting too much of a kick out of this is a distant worry amid the fact that the pleasure is now overwhelming. She is doing so much to you so steadily that even in pleasuring you, she's nothing but dominant, not slowing down at all as she works at you with an unbreaking wickedness that seems to be exactly what the witch relishes in, and it's as hot as it is utterly terrifying.

Her tongue runs down along the underside of your cock as she fondles your balls, switching hand and tongue to play with you differently, finding new and wicked ways to toy with you amid the delighted thrill of making you suffer. "So obedient," she purrs. "This is what I do to reward my beloved servants, and you have earned this with that wonderful tongue of yours. I'm not a cruel mistress, and every night, once I've had my fill, I promise, you'll have yours too. One orgasm may not seem like much, but when you know how the body works, and how to magically push it along..." She laughs, and you think little of it as she switches back up to stroking your cock and kissing along your ass cheeks amid the steady fucking of your back hole.

But then she says those words of release--in more ways than one. "Cum for me," she purrs, and the spell breaks quickly. The pleasure is immediate and it's blinding, your cock erupting and spraying cum down onto the bed, and it doesn't feel like you're only climaxing once. Two or three orgasms worth of not only pure sensation but of cum itself are effortlessly coaxed out by the wicked witch. It's so much so quickly that even the sweet thrill of being overwhelmed almost feels like overkill, but you can't stop now, forced to take it all, to endure the overload of pleasure, to discover that 'too much' of a good thing exists and that it straddles a line that, on some twisted level, you're still not sure you don't want to cross. It feels so good.

"Thank you, mistress!" spills from your lips without a second thought, and it feels so frank and ragged, coming right from the heart. It's almost embarrassing to know how deep in you are, but you can't help yourself, giving her everything she wants.

"You are quite welcome, my dear servant." She smiles, pulling you up and toward her. She kisses your lips again, more firmly this time. "And to think, this is only the beginning."

They say that witches aren't to be trusted, and you don't know why that is. You're the loyal pet of a witch, and you trust her every word, and live to fulfill her every wish. Nobody has ever been as trustworthy or as utterly perfect as Mercy before.


End file.
